


Completion

by SlytherinSweetheart1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Control, F/M, I Called Him Sir Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 15:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinSweetheart1/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart1
Summary: ”I know how to fake an orgasm, Sir!” She snaps, frustration palpable in her tone, and then, mortified, looks at her feet.The one where aliens made them do it.





	Completion

“So, I’ll just talk you through it.” The Colonel concludes, as if he was not just promising the world was made of chocolate and it rained cookies. Absurd, that man, as always, but his confidence and the cocky smirk harked back to the day he told her he ‘liked women’ and Sam wonders if maybe she should consider his offer.

“Sir,” she begins, then pauses, because really they didn’t cover this sort of thing at the Academy. She crosses her arms over her chest, the thin silver dress she has been forced to wear stretching with the movement.

“Carter, I know it is a violation, of course, and I’m sorry, and you are welcome to obviously report me, but I can’t really let you die over it.”

“I know how to fake an orgasm, Sir!” She snaps, frustration palpable in her tone, and then, mortified, looks at her feet. The concrete floor of the holding cell speaks of some sort of industrial revolution, and neo industrial, too, as they described it, because the floor pulses and glows with Sam’s emotions.

She knows he can’t help but grin, because the smile is evident in his voice. “I’m sure you do, Captain.” And then the tone changes, and he is serious, and her CO “but their machines seem exact. I don’t know how they know that you haven’t ...”

“Haven’t been able to achieve Completion” Sam quoted the Head Chieftain, turning away from the Colonel to fiddle with the items left on the long metal desk.

“Carter. It happens. To a lot of women. A lot of people, actually.”

“Does it now?” She knows she sounds bitter, but this has been such an awful point of contention with Jonas.

“Sure youbetcha. Our study showed that about 15% of women never achieve orgasm.” That startled Sam. “Our study, Sir?”

“I got up to mischief as an undergraduate, Carter. Biology, psychology, the looser sciences.” He smiles, and it forces Sam to grin back.

“Look, if I say I know what I’m doing, are you going to chalk it up to male bravado or scientific fact?” The bastard.

“Scientific fact?” Her voice is shrill now. “I’ve read every book on the topic, I’ve tried everything, it just doesn’t work. That’s ok, I got over it.”

“Carter, it would be unlikely that there is some biological issue. You just overthink it.”

Sam thinks maybe she is going to hit him, and he must realise that’s the case, because his whole attitude shifts.

“Carter, Sam, Samantha” his voice is low, cajoling, and the lights in the room flicker as he walks towards her, crowding her between the wall and the table.

“Sir.”

“Our study showed that what leads to orgasm is prolonged and intense arousal. What we need to do..” his voice drops as he leans in closer, reaching for the edges of the table, pinning her against the ledge.

“Yes?” Sam exhales.

“We need to find what it is that arouses you.” His nose brushes against her hair, a whisper of movement, and Sam’s feels herself shiver. “How do you like it? Do you want to be loved slowly?”

His eyes, whisky warm, seem to drown her. Sam catches herself glancing away from them, captivated by his mouth.

“No? You don’t want to be worshiped, a man at your feet, fingers and mouth working busily, stroking, touching?” He is so close, she can smell him; mountains and frost and something male and powerful.

“That’s never worked before.” Sam acknowledges, the truth feels as if it has been ripped from her. His voice is low in her ear. Surrounding her.

“Ah! Too intense? Too much, right? What about being taken up against a desk, just like this? Is that something you have fantasises about, when you touch yourself?” The words bring a flood of images into her mind, of him pushing her up against the table, her holding onto his strong forearms, lost in him, as he urges her to touch herself. “Samantha?”

“I’ve tried, in the shower.” Sam confesses, her voice a mesmerised whisper.

“And with Hanson?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what happened?” He orders, stepping forward so their hips are flush. Sam wants to squirm, to see if he would be hard against her thigh, like he had been in Antartica, and wasn’t that the absolute power rush. “I would finger myself till my hands cramped with no success. He took it personally after a while, disappearing for days at a time.” Something flashed in the Colonel’s eyes that she couldn’t identify. He hid his feelings, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

“What kind of sex feels good?” The words danced against her skin. She couldn’t tell him that! Choosing instead to misunderstand - “With Jonas? Sometimes, when he came back from a mission, and he was, well, quiet, specific, easy to please.”

“Specific? Samantha. Do you need to be told what to do?” Her breath catches and like a shark sensing blood, she can feel his interest spike.

“Yes. No. I mean. I know what to do, it’s just...” she knows she sounds panicked.

“Ah, fantasises of control, then. That makes sense, no fear of failure if you’re not the one in charge.” His mouth is at the she of her ear. “Who have you fantasised about? One of your professors, perhaps” his grip at her hips tightens. “No? Really? Doctors?” Sam stands frozen. “Police officers? Someone in authority, I would think. A General? Surely not your CO?”

“Sir.” Her exclamation is admission enough, breathy, shaky, eyes downcast. She would be mortified if she wasn’t so turned on.

“Fuck.” The Colonel seems surprised, hands falling slack at his side.

“Sir, Please.” She begs, following his movement, missing that brief contact, the press of his knuckles against her hips.

“Look at me, Samantha.” He orders, guiding her to face him with careful fingers. His eyes are darker than she has ever seen them, contrasting the flickering grey walls of the room. When he speaks, his voice is husky and low, and his words coil pleasure through her core.

“I will talk you through this. You are one of mine.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He seems to be focusing on the thin straps at her shoulders. His hand trails across her face to tangle in her hair, fingers gently pulling till he exposes the side of her neck.

His mouth is warm against her skin. A gentle flicker of his tongue and he is tasting her, the sensation making Sam mewl and clutch at the table.

“Your sex belongs to me.” Each sentence is punctuated with a gentle bite across her neck. “Your pleasure is mine. You can’t orgasm because I have not given you permission.” In that moment, she believes him. “Your body knows me. Obeys me. Tell me.” She so desperately needs to look away, but his gaze holds her captive.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir, what?”

“I belong to you.”

“Good girl. Let’s being.”

“Begin, Sir?”

“Aroused, Carter, you need to be so turned on that you can’t breathe.”

“Oh God, I am, Sir.”

“Hardly. You may be wet, but your legs are still shut. You’re not grinding yourself on me. Yet. You haven’t begged.”

“Sir, please.”

“That’s a good start, Major.” the Colonel’s hand is gentle and warm at the back of her neck, as he guides her to face the other way, her back to him. “Hands on the table. Flat. Grip the other ledge, Samantha.” The position is incredibly revealing, forcing her to bend forward, thighs pressed against the metal, her body held in position by his. Sam wonders for a brief second if he is going to push inside her roughly, making away with the clothing and barriers between them, and fuck her. She wouldn’t say no, not to him, but she knows it wouldn’t make her come.

“How do your breasts feel? Are your nipples tight?” He whispers, body leaning over hers.

“I, uh, Sir?”

“Touch them over the silk, slowly, Carter. Slow down, gently, run your fingers across the underside. Spend time stroking them. Feel the fullness as you cup each one. Now, slowly, gently, feather light, run your fingers over the nipple. Let go. Again.”

His voice continues to tantalise her, instructing her again and again as she touches her breasts. “Pinch.” He orders, and when she moans, she can hear an almost displeased tone when he adds “Harder, Major.” “Sir?”

“Now the other one.” Sam’s breathing, she notices, is laboured. Each pinch and stroke of her hands against her nipples feels like an electric current running from her breasts to between her legs.

“Push the neckline down so you can properly touch each one.” At his order, she rushes to comply, nearly ripping the silver silk.

“Eager, are we?” He teases.

“I need” she begins, but she isn’t even sure how to finish the sentence.

“You need to be owned and taken against this very table until you can’t walk tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Carter, spread your legs.” He orders. The moment she does, she can smell how wet she is, and she knows by the way his hands grip at her thighs that he too is now aware. When she reaches to pull up the dress, he pushes her hands away.

“Not yet.”

“Sir?”

“Press your hands back against the table.”

Again, Sam has her body against the cool metal. Her breasts feel heavy and full, her breathing steaming up the metal.

His feet press against her bare ones. Boots against skin, and the vulnerability of her position is again reinforced. He doesn’t kick them apart, but he orders her - “Wider.”

Sam shuffles, her stance now unnaturally wide. The cool air of the room coils about her sex. He steps closer to her, hands gliding across her back. The movement forcing Sam to push back towards him.

“Carter. Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You need to be always ready for me. To please me. No more underwear, Carter, when we are off duty.”

“Yes, Yes, Sir.”

“Take then off.”

He doesn’t move, and she’s forced to push up her dress and pull down her knickers with her face still against the table. She’s so wet, but his hands on her hip keep her steady, and she’s unable to take the opportunity to grind herself against him or clench her legs together to ease the ache.

“On the table.” He orders, and she places the sodden underwear next to her head.

“Legs spread, no underwear, when you’re off duty. Soon we will get you used to being wet and aroused on command.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Colonel pulls up her dress, inch by inch, letting the silk fall against her exposed backside and slip between her legs. It feels like there is an endless moment of cool cloth and then she is exposed to him.

He takes a step back, and then another, and Sam knows he is watching her. Legs spread, face and upper body against a table, sex exposed.

“Touch yourself.” He orders.


End file.
